A Million Miles
by minachandler
Summary: "I miss Sara, too," Nyssa says softly. "But she is gone, Laurel. Forever. I have accepted it. I think it's time you did, too." Set during 4x03. Nyssa tries to get through to Laurel one last time, but it's difficult for both of them given their past. Two-shot.
1. samaya

The room in Nanda Parbat where Sara's body is being kept has an illusory warmth to it, light streaming through the stained glass and enveloping the room with a pleasant glow, bright white and tinged with magenta. But those rays of hope belie the inevitable truth of the matter that Nyssa is laying out for Laurel as she avoids Nyssa's gaze, palms grazing Sara's coffin – that Sara is gone, once and for all.

"I miss Sara, too," Nyssa says softly. "But she is gone, Laurel. Forever. I have accepted it. I think it's time you did, too."

Laurel straightens up just in time to watch Nyssa leave, and somehow part of her (the part of her that is not still beset with the fresh grief and pain that comes with taking her sister's body across a million miles and several oceans to try and resurrect her) manages to call out Nyssa's name. Nyssa doesn't immediately turn around, though she does stop in her tracks.

By the time Laurel's feet have carried her the door, Nyssa is facing Laurel, an unreadable expression on her features, in her dark eyes and her prominent cheekbones.

"What is it?" Nyssa asks.

For some reason, Laurel falters for a second. Nyssa regards her expectantly, waiting patiently for her to answer.

"How – how are you?" Laurel says at last, and Nyssa jolts back as if surprised. Nyssa's keeping her distance from Laurel, as Laurel can't help but notice; hesitantly, she extends her hand forward, watching for Nyssa's reaction. Nyssa doesn't move. Encouraged, Laurel lets her hand settle on Nyssa's arm, and Laurel doesn't miss Nyssa's sharp intake of breath at her touch. To her relief, though, Nyssa doesn't move away. A good sign, perhaps.

"I have been better," she admits.

"Nyssa..." Laurel whispers, "about Sara – is it because of – because of what's happened between us?"

At this, however, Nyssa snatches her arm away as though she's just been burned. "No," Nyssa snaps, and Laurel's alarm must be evident on her face because seconds later Nyssa softens, sighing quietly. "No," she repeats, her tone gentler. "Your sister... was a forgiving person. It is not that."

"Then what is it?" Laurel demands. "I mean – you seem so sure that she's not going to come back as herself, but I can see it's more than just that."

And despite everything, Nyssa smiles wryly. "I take back what I said before. Perhaps you truly do know me."

Laurel shakes her head, and she draws up all the courage she can muster and takes Nyssa's hand. "I don't just _know_ you, Nyssa. I –" Momentarily, Laurel hesitates, before finding it in her to continue, "I love you." Nyssa tries to tug her hand away, but Laurel holds on stubbornly, not letting go. "I mean it."

"I know you do," Nyssa says, at first not quite able to meet Laurel's eyes. Then, as if steeling herself, Nyssa looks up at her, sincerity and regret evident in her eyes. "I am sorry I left without saying goodbye."

Laurel is the one to look away this time. "It's okay," she says. "I'm – kind of used to it."

But then Nyssa's forefinger goes under Laurel's chin, lifting her face to hers. "I very much wanted to stay with you. But I could not. That night I had received word of Merlyn's ascension to Ra's al Ghul. I had to return."

"I understand," Laurel says faintly, her voice choked. Something stops her from saying anything about all the times she's called Nyssa, only to be greeted by an automated voicemail message. (She never left any voicemails – or, rather, she would record the message after the beep, as prompted, and then she would delete the message with tears in her eyes before hanging up. )

"I have missed you," Nyssa says. It's surprising how soothing Laurel finds her voice. "And as much as Nanda Parbat is my home, it is a little remote for black and white milkshakes."

Laurel manages a smile that she nevertheless knows is watery. "I've missed you too." She feels the sudden urge to kiss Nyssa, to claim her mouth with her own and savour the taste of her that she has missed more than she can say with words.

But she knows now is neither the time nor the place. Quickly she changes the subject. "About Sara –"

Nyssa nods resignedly, accepting that that is the end of their conversation, and she sighs. "When I first learned of Sara's death, I returned to Nanda Parbat and informed my father of it – as well as Merlyn's suspected involvement. My father did not want to avenge Sara's death. He declared the League would hunt down Merlyn only for his crimes against the League, not against Sara."

"Why?"

Nyssa laughs bitterly. "My father had never approved of my relationship with Sara. Together we could not produce an heir, so I was made less valuable to him. Sara's status in the League was merely as my concubine, and even this was attained with great effort. My point is that my father did not consider my grief worthy of vengeance. This angered me, made me irrational – much like you are now." Laurel opens her mouth to object, but Nyssa continues.

"I demanded for him to allow me to bring her back using the Lazarus Pit. It was soon enough after her death that I knew her soul had not yet departed."

"I don't understand – her soul –" Laurel starts to say, but she isn't sure she even knows _what_ to say.

"Ensoulment is a complex process," Nyssa explains, "but the short answer is that if done soon enough after one's death, when the soul is still intact, the effects of being resurrected by the Lazarus Pit are not as great. At least, legend says this much."

"That's good, though, isn't it?"

Nyssa shakes her head. "If my father had allowed me to bring her back when I asked, perhaps there would be a chance. But he did not. And although I will always have a great deal of anger towards him, I do think – in this one instance – his disapproval had an upside. Because," Nyssa says, and now she takes Laurel's hand, squeezing it gently, "I realised, eventually, that I was not doing this for Sara. I was doing it for myself."

Laurel sighs, closing her eyes briefly and letting Nyssa trace a circle on her palm with her thumb. "You're right. It is selfish of me. I know that. But I just – I've lost her twice now, and both times I didn't think I would be able to live without her."

"You were wrong," Nyssa murmurs. "Not only did you manage to carry on living… but you flourished."

"Maybe," Laurel says. "But if there's even a tiny chance that I can live _with_ her, I'll take it. She's my little sister, Nyssa. She – she's not supposed to die first. Before me. Twice. No matter what it takes I have to at least try to put that right."

"Laurel... samaya," Nyssa pleads, and Laurel winces, both at the endearment and at the tears in Nyssa's eyes as she lifts her hand to Laurel's cheek. "I implore you. This is a dangerous path. Please do not pursue it any further. If not for your own sake then for Sara's. Promise me, ya Laurel."

"I can't do that," Laurel says. It's now that she registers how thick her own voice has become with tears. "You know I can't. You know why."

"And you know why I object to you even suggesting this so strenuously," Nyssa replies.

And then Laurel can't help it – she reaches up to tuck a strand of Nyssa's hair behind her ear before cupping the back of her neck. "And here I thought we understood each other."

Nyssa closes her eyes at Laurel's touch. "I thought the same. I suppose we were both wrong."

The tears are falling freely down Laurel's face now. She stands on her tiptoes so she is briefly a couple of inches taller, tall enough to press a kiss on Nyssa's forehead. "I'm sorry," Laurel whispers into Nyssa's skin, lips still brushing her hairline.

Nyssa's sigh as Laurel pulls away is audible, and Laurel doesn't need to look Nyssa in the eyes to know she feels just as much regret. "As am I, samaya. As am I."


	2. salaasil

"I want to see Nyssa," Laurel says to Malcolm. The Lazarus Pit is still foaming, and he is watching it intently, the pink hues reflecting in his dark eyes. At Laurel's words, though, he looks up.

"What for?" he says. "She may have done an adequate job teaching you how to fight, but breaking her out of the deadliest dungeon the League houses? It's a little above your paygrade, Laurel."

"I'm not going to break her out," Laurel lies automatically. "I just want to see her."

Malcolm glances over at Thea, who glares back, and Laurel watches as he rolls his eyes and huffs in exasperation.

"Fine. You," he barks at the nearest League member, "accompany her to the dungeon."

Laurel shakes her head. "No, I have to be alone with her."

Raising his eyebrows questioningly, Malcolm narrows his eyes for a second before his expression clears. "I see." A cold smile forms on his lips that makes Laurel want to take a step back. "That makes two lovers Nyssa and her husband have in common."

"Don't talk to Laurel like that," Thea cuts in sharply. "Especially when it comes to things that are none of your business. Besides, Ollie isn't anyone's husband."

"And Nyssa isn't his wife," Laurel adds through gritted teeth.

"In this house, they are married, whether you accept that or not," Malcolm says.

Thea closes her eyes in frustration. "Let Laurel see Nyssa, Dad. Alone."

And almost too quickly, Laurel can't help but think, Malcolm relents. "Fine. Head through that door until you reach the northwest wall, and then it is on your third right and down the stairs."

Laurel tries not to show her surprise at his sudden willingness to cooperate with her and says as curtly as she can, "Got it."

After one last anxious (but also thankful) look at Thea, Laurel heads off through the door Malcolm indicated. She is alert, fists clenched, poised and ready for a fight at any moment – because there is no way she trusts Malcolm to let her see Nyssa without at least the possibility of some kind of trap.

But as it happens, the hallowed halls she walks through are empty, without a single assassin in sight. It's only when she reaches the northwest wall that she finally sees an assassin stationed at the third right, but he (or she – it's impossible to tell with the mask) holds out his bow and gestures for Laurel to pass. It's almost polite, and that throws her off even more.

When she catches sight of Nyssa, chained and sitting cross-legged on the floor, her fingers curled around the bars of the prison that encloses her, the already furious thrumming of her heartbeat increases tenfold. For a moment, a myriad of emotions overcomes Laurel and her breath catches in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak as her eyes meet Nyssa's.

"What are you doing here?" Nyssa demands. "How did you –?"

"Malcolm let me," Laurel answers, somehow finding her voice again, although her words come out more than a little choked. "Are you okay?"

And despite the steeliness in Nyssa's eyes, the way her shoulders evidently stiffen as Laurel draws closer to her, there is surprisingly little anger in Nyssa's voice when she speaks again. "I am fine. But I am not who you should be worrying about right now."

"I'm sorry," Laurel says softly, and she lowers herself to her knees so her face is level with Nyssa's, Laurel's fingers curling around a bar for support.

"Now you have resurrected your sister, it is a little too late for apologies, is it not?"

"No." Laurel's grip on the bar tightens and she takes a breath. "You were right. What happens with Sara from here – it's on me. I'll take that responsibility. And if this goes wrong, if she is never the same person she was before, that's on me. But I'm not going to apologise for trying."

"Then what are you apologising for?" Nyssa asks.

Laurel closes her eyes briefly. "You're locked up in a dungeon because of me. It's my fault and I'm sorry. But I want to make that right. That at least I can try to do."

And when she meets Nyssa's eyes, Laurel can see that familiar look of comprehension dawning on Nyssa's prominent features. "No, Laurel," Nyssa says, sighing. "Besides the fact that you are not trained for breaking anyone out of a normal prison, let alone one inside a dungeon designed by my father... you cannot possibly think that Merlyn will allow you safe passage out of Nanda Parbat with Sara and Thea if he knows you helped me escape."

"But I'm not going to just leave you here," Laurel objects. "I can't, Nyssa."

"You can and you will," Nyssa says firmly. And then – Laurel's not sure why, but Nyssa's expression softens and she reaches out, between the bars, outstretching her chained hand towards Laurel's cheek. The bars and cuffs don't permit Nyssa to do so, however, so Laurel leans forward, sighing quietly at Nyssa's touch as her fingertips graze Laurel's jaw. "Did you encounter any resistance on your way down here?"

"No," Laurel murmurs. Temporarily she becomes distracted by the barest kiss of Nyssa's breath on the hollow of her throat – they're that close to each other – but then she realises something. "He cleared the path for me," she says slowly. "He expects me to try and bust you out."

"Of course he does. Which is why you cannot." Laurel opens her mouth to argue, but Nyssa swiftly goes on, "If you even try, I am certain he will attempt to harm your sister. Or worse."

"But he just helped bring her back."

And to Laurel's shock, Nyssa's eyes fill with tears. "He did not _help_ do anything, Laurel. The person – the creature you brought back is not Sara. Malcolm allowed for her body to be restored, nothing more."

"We don't know that," Laurel says, letting her hand drop to her side. "She just needs time."

"Time will not do anything for her," Nyssa tells her. Then she sighs. "I have always loved you for your optimism."

And despite everything, Laurel can't stop the smile that breaks out on her lips. It fades, though, at what Nyssa says next.

"But right now it has clearly clouded your judgement, and I – cannot see past that."

Laurel falters. "Nyssa, I..." But she trails off, unsure what to say, what to do. She's clutching at the same bar as Nyssa, fingers twined around cold metal. Almost as if of their own accord, they slide upwards to touch Nyssa's hand.

To her surprise, Nyssa doesn't stop Laurel from wrapping her hand around Nyssa's chained wrist. Her sharp intake of her breath at Laurel's touch is audible, though, and as Nyssa's eyes bleed into hers, Laurel feels a wave of remorse almost overcome her at the pain she can there.

"I cannot help but remember the last time the two of us were in a similar predicament," Nyssa confesses. "I, as the prisoner, and you, on the outside – and something as small as Sara's laughter was enough to make me feel freer than I had in months."

Nodding, Laurel's smile returns. "I remember. I miss that feeling. I haven't felt it in a while."

"Neither have I," Nyssa admits. There's silence for a moment, and then, suddenly, Nyssa says, looking Laurel full in the eyes, "Promise me one thing."

"Anything," Laurel says instantly.

"Leave me here and return to Star City with your sister and Thea. Who you have restored may be but a remnant of Sara... but I will not have anything happen to her, or to you."

"And what about if something happens to you?" Laurel whispers.

"I will be fine."

And any objections Laurel has die on her lips as Nyssa sits up so she's on her knees and gestures for Laurel to move forward; Laurel closes her eyes and does just that, so she can feel the bars press against either cheek. Moments later Nyssa's lips are on hers, while her fingers grip Laurel's jacket lapels to pull her closer. Laurel scrunches her eyes shut, wishing she wasn't tasting Nyssa's tears, but still, Laurel kisses her back, unable to stop her gasp when abruptly Nyssa pulls away. Her chained wrists fall away from Laurel as she stands up, taking a step back into her cell.

"Go," Nyssa says. She turns her back, waiting for Laurel to leave. For a second, Laurel thinks about trying to break her out anyway, but she knows that Nyssa and even – God help her – Malcolm are right. She's out of her depth. And what Nyssa said about Sara makes sense – it explains why Malcolm was suddenly willing to let Laurel have her way, at least.

And aside from that, Nyssa has asked Laurel to promise not to. The least Laurel can do for Nyssa is honour that.

So it is with tears still in her eyes that Laurel gets to her feet, turns on her heel and walks out of the dungeon – alone as when she came.


End file.
